The golden sunlight filtered into the office through glass panes that stretched floor to ceiling. It painted the room in warm hues—hues that didn't match the energy inside. The morning air in the CEO's private office was colder than usual—or so Nia felt as she reread the email draft for the third time.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed, the fingers of his right hand drumming lightly against the desk. He hadn't spoken a single word to her all morning. Not even the curt greetings she'd grown used to. He had acknowledged her presence with nothing more than a glance—and what a glance it was. Cool. Sharp. Like a sword tip brushing against her neck.
"I told you to arrange the board files alphabetically and prioritize the September batch," he said coldly, his gaze flickering over the stack of documents.
Nia stood there, fingers tightening around the hem of her plain brown skirt. "I… I did," she said, her voice steady but tight. "These are the September files. Alphabetized by surname, just like you asked."
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, his eyes scanned the papers again, and then flicked up to meet hers with an unreadable expression. "Did I say surname? I meant project title."
She blinked. "But yesterday—"
"Was yesterday," he cut in sharply. "Today, I expect better."
Nia clenched her jaw and nodded slowly. "Understood."
He watched her go, a strange tension in his chest that he refused to acknowledge. Why did she always have to look like a kicked puppy every time he pointed out her mistakes? And yet, why did he keep noticing?
Nia wasn't used to being insulted so casually. Sure, she'd grown up being underestimated—by teachers, employers, even her neighbors who assumed she was just another pretty girl with a garbage collector's blood and no future. But Lucien's words had landed differently. He didn't just dismiss her. He sliced through her confidence with that velvety, indifferent tone of his.
And yet… it stung less because of the insult and more because it came from him.
Back at her desk, Nia fumed in silence. She opened her laptop and began redoing the list from scratch, fingers flying faster than before.
"Project titles," she muttered under her breath. "What kind of heartless boss changes his criteria every morning and calls me naive?"
She didn't even realize she was scowling until she stole a glance at him, seated across the large office, buried in documents. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing lean forearms. He always looked like he belonged in a movie—the kind with throne rooms, not boardrooms. Handsome. Untouchable. A king pretending to be a corporate wolf.
Nia scoffed quietly. What does he know anyway? Arrogant prick.
Still, she couldn't stop her eyes from trailing over the strong lines of his jaw, the way his dark hair curled slightly at the ends, or how his gaze never missed a single movement in the room.
Ugh. She hated how observant he was.
"Nia," he called suddenly, without looking up.
She startled in her chair, fumbling with the report on her desk. "Yes, sir?"
"The figures for the client analysis are incorrect. Again. Did you not double-check them before sending?"
She blinked. "I—I did. Twice. I'm sure they're accurate."
"Then your 'sure' needs recalibrating," he said coldly, sliding the file toward her without so much as a glance.
She took it, biting the inside of her cheek. Don't cry. Don't scream. Don't shove the file down his perfect throat.
"Fix it and re-send in twenty minutes."
"Yes, sir," she muttered.
At lunch, Jade dragged her to the rooftop cafeteria. The wind was cool, and the city below shimmered in the afternoon sun. They sat at a small corner table with cheap trays and plastic cutlery.
Twenty minutes later, Nia sat with a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. She stared into it like it held all the answers.
"Are you okay?" came Jade's voice, suddenly softer than her usual sharp, teasing tone.
Nia looked up at her best friend, grateful for the interruption. "Do I look okay?"
"You look like someone kicked your puppy, dragged you through traffic, and then made you apologize for bleeding on the pavement," Jade said, sitting beside her with a smirk.
"That's very descriptive. Thank you."
"Uh-oh, someone's clearly been blessed by the Ice King again."
Nia shot her a glare. "He's impossible."
"Let me guess. Mr. Vale was mean to you again?"
"Mean is an understatement."
"Still calling you naive?"
"Yes," Nia said bitterly. "I know I don't have the experience. I know I mess up sometimes. But he doesn't have to rub it in every single day."
"Oh come on," Jade grinned, "he's strict, sure—but he's also got that thing going on. I mean, admit it. If he weren't your boss, you'd totally go for him."
Nia nearly dropped her pen. "Excuse me?"
Jade giggled and rolled her eyes. "Relax. I'm just saying—tall, handsome, deadly with words... if you're into emotionally unavailable CEOs with enough money to buy their own country, he's the dreamboat of the century."
"I'm into warmth. Kindness. You know—human traits?" Nia snapped. "Besides, he's arrogant, judgmental, always watching me like I'm an unsolved math problem…"
"...but he hasn't fired you," Jade said slyly.
"Don't remind me," Nia grumbled.
Truth be told, his patience surprised her too. Every little misstep, every hesitation, every time she stumbled in his presence—he'd look at her like she was unworthy of his time. And yet, he hadn't once suggested letting her go.
Why?
Jade was unusually quiet, stirring her coffee with a distant look.
Nia glanced up. "Okay. Spill."
"Huh?"
"You're being quiet. That's illegal. What's going on?"
Jade gave her a sheepish smile. "Okay, but don't laugh."
Nia raised a brow.
"I think I have a crush on Lucien."
Nia blinked. "Lucien? As in Mr. Smirks and expensive cologne from the marketing team?"
"That's him."
Nia tried not to grin but failed, though she felt a strange flip in her stomach. "You? The men are scum unless they have shares in Apple girl?"
"I didn't say I wanted to marry him," Jade protested. "Just… you know, maybe kiss him during a blackout or something."
"You're hopeless."
"I know," Jade said with a sigh, leaning on her palm. "But he's charming. Aren't you attracted to those magnificent eyes?And unlike someone, he doesn't look at me like I'm one missed call away from unemployment."
Nia laughed, but the comment stung a little. Because it was true.
"You sound almost jealous," Jade added with a smirk.
"I'm not."
"Mhm."
"I'm not."
Jade raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Just saying… he does stare at you an awful lot."
"No, he stares at mistakes. I am the mistake."
They both laughed.
That evening, back at the office, Aurellion stood by the window of his top-floor suite, staring at the skyline through his clone's eyes. His clone—the one holding down the noble fort—was nearly halfway through its one-year limit. A ticking time bomb. Every moment out here was both freedom and a gamble.
And then there was her. Nia.
He didn't know why he hadn't let her go. She was too soft, too naive. Too honest for her own good. And yet, her work ethic was impeccable. Her attention to detail unmatched. Her mistakes weren't due to incompetence, but inexperience. And something else…
When she walked into a room, the air shifted. He didn't like it.
He didn't like her unsettling his rhythm.
Back in the office, Lucien looked through the corrected analysis. Every figure was now perfect. Every chart aligned. Every sentence precise.
He should have been pleased.
He wasn't.
There was something about her—something frustrating. The way she sulked without saying a word, the way she worked hard just to gain his approval, the way she fumbled but never gave up.
Naive, yes. But meticulous. Smart. And for someone who hated his guts, she tried harder than any assistant he'd ever had.
He tapped his pen on the desk. She was getting under his skin.
And that was dangerous.
Because Lucien Vale didn't do attachments.
Because if he slipped—if anyone found out who he really was—this entire life he'd built in the city would unravel.
The clone. The business. The cover. All of it.
And Nia, for all her wide-eyed innocence, was now a thread in that delicate fabric.
He couldn't afford to pull her too close.
But he couldn't push her away either.
Not yet.
He stood and walked to her desk. "The revisions were acceptable," he said, voice neutral.
Nia looked up in surprise. "Oh. Thank you."
He leaned down slightly. "Don't let it happen again."
And walked away.
Later that night, Nia walked home under the glow of flickering street lamps. Her oversized glasses slipped down her nose again, and she pushed them back up with a sigh. She caught her reflection in a shop window—frizzy bun, tired eyes, thrift store coat.
No one would ever guess there was a beautiful girl beneath all that.
No one, except him. The way he sometimes looked at her—like he could see through the camouflage—scared her.
She stared after his retreating figure in her memory, confused, irritated, and strangely… flustered.
"I hate him," she whispered to herself. "He's arrogant. Cold. And always five steps ahead."
She paused. "But he's not wrong."
She hated that even more.
She really did hate him.
Didn't she?